


As Easy As This

by brokenparable



Series: As Easy As This [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Danish Actor RPF, Hannibal (TV) RPF, Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Dirty Talk, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Madancy, Mutual Masturbation, RPF, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Tagged as Will/Hannibal for discussion of their relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9206738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenparable/pseuds/brokenparable
Summary: When they happen to be in the same city, Mads invites Hugh over to his hotel to catch up and have a few beers. The conversation turns to speculation about whether Will and Hannibal would ever have sex, and to a spontaneous exploration of their own underlying feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure fantasy, and in no way reflects anything I believe to be true about the actors (whose real lives are absolutely none of my business). I’m just blown away by the natural chemistry between those two, and couldn’t get this type of scenario out of my head. I feel a bit sheepish and nervous about posting this, so I've created a more anonymous account for it. I’ve never really considered writing RPF before, but this fandom pushes me to reconsider almost all my boundaries!

They're on their third drinks when Mads brings up a recent article about the finale of _Hannibal_ , mischievously mentioning some speculative comments on the potential escalation of Will and Hannibal's relationship. "And we thought we went with the restrained version!" he laughs.

Hugh rolls his eyes and leans his head back against the sofa they're sharing. "But the question of whether they’d ever have sex is almost completely meaningless," he says impatiently. "When you’ve established a soul-deep bond on that level, there’s nothing physical that can really raise the stakes in any significant way. I've always thought that."

"Yes, yes," Mads waves his hand dismissively, shooting Hugh a playful smile. “But if they did it, would the sex be any good?"

"I don't know, would it be?"

"Given Will’s empathy, shouldn’t he be the greatest lay the world has ever known?"

"Well, you have to balance his attunement to others with his tendency to become utterly engulfed by strong emotions – his own, or someone else's," Hugh replies.

"And you suppose that having sex with Hannibal would be so emotional? What makes you think they wouldn't go at it like animals, at least the first time?"

"Uh, I haven't actually thought about it at all."

The truth is that Hugh _has_ thought about it, quite against his better judgement. He's woken up hard from surreal dreams of blurred identities sometimes, and at other times gotten off to thoughts of Will panting under Hannibal’s hot mouth. Those images spring to mind again now, unbidden and seductive, and he doesn't want Mads to sense this when they're only supposed to be having fun.

Hugh knows he's a little tipsy from the drinks they've been having over the last few hours, but he's sober enough to know it's wise to be a little evasive. "I just..." he says carefully, "It makes sense that most things between them would be very overwhelming and hesitant at first, doesn't it? They love each other, and there are years of sorrow behind them."

"There’s also a trail of bodies," Mads points out. "And three years is a long time to go without sex."

" _Will_ had plenty of sex, thank you."

"Ah, but there's a part of Will that had been locked away during that time too. Who's to say that savage bit of him wouldn’t also be expressed through some kind of physical connection?"

Hugh gives a slow, concessionary nod, scratching his cheek and willing himself not to imagine what it'd be like to rip Mads out of one of those expensive Hannibal costumes. "Yeah, I see what you’re saying… though that response and a kind of emotional flooding are not mutually exclusive. Still, I'm not so sure it would ever happen in the first place."

"Oh, it'd happen," Mads winks, smug.

"I don’t believe Will's ever even _considered_ wanting a dick," Hugh objects, taking a quick fortifying gulp of his beer.

"Except Hannibal’s."

"You're too immersed in Hannibal's own arrogance here to be objective."

"Or maybe you're in denial, just like poor Will."

"Okay! I'm throwing down the gauntlet," Hugh announces, slamming his bottle onto the table next to the sofa. He's only joking with a friend, he tells himself. He's certainly not trying to bait Mads into describing a sexual encounter. "Convince me it’s plausible. Given me _one_ scenario in which it makes sense as a natural progression."

"Easy," Mads scoffs. "There are dozens. After they've killed someone, say?"

"Ah, that time-honored romantic overture. And don't tell me you believe Will is going to start hacking off body parts left, right and center," Hugh makes a face. "You know it would have to be righteous violence."

"Yeah, exactly. You know, think of 'this is all I've ever wanted for you' and so on. Something with that level of erotic intimacy... but maybe with fewer gaping wounds and more privacy. Fewer wounds left by third parties, at least."

Hugh opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again.

"Or when they start living together," Mads continues undeterred after a sip of beer, shrugging casually. "Maybe it-"

"Oh, I see, _when_ they start living together. You're always awfully certain that Will is going to shack up with his beloved tormenter."

Mads ignores him, counting off ideas on his fingers. "Or when they're cooking something or some _one_ , or after they argue about the past, or when one of them needs help with an injury, or when they have to talk about how Will has started having sexually charged acid-trip dreams of the stag man."

"It's a wendigo, technically. And shit, you've given this a lot of consideration," Hugh’s tone is mocking, but there's something beguiling about hearing Mads so easily generating contexts for seduction, no matter how glib the delivery.

"My point is that you asked for a scenario and I say take your pick. No need for special circumstances, just Hannibal, Will, and that very last layer of defensiveness stripped away."

"Poetic," Hugh forces a quick smile, averting his gaze. There's an uncomfortable, slightly nervous twisting in his gut, and he's aware that there’s a layer of defensiveness here too. He's deftly and deliberately outmaneuvering Mads, quipping incessantly so that everything stays very light and hilarious, but it doesn't feel that funny – not with something so dangerous simmering just under the surface. He's torn between the impulsive part of him that wants to hear more, and the sensible internal voice that tells him to retreat completely. 

"So, I win, yes?" Mads presses, appearing triumphant. If he has picked up on Hugh's unease, it doesn't show.

"I grant you’ve imbued the concept with a bit more plausibility."

"I have!"

"But there's more to this than merely setting up a context where it's not utterly ludicrous. What about the concrete details?" Hugh says, and internally kicks himself as soon as the words slip out. He wonders why he's really asking. He wonders exactly _what_ he’s asking.

"Oh?"

"I can't see Will just grabbing Hannibal's arse."

"Perhaps not, but you can see Hannibal cupping Will’s face, touching him possessively. He's done this before, and Will let him," Mads shifts tone, suddenly much more serious. "Is it so far from there to a kiss?"

There's a protracted silence then, Mads holding Hugh's gaze, and it is with a wave of trepidation that Hugh feels his heart rate speed up. He's aroused by the mental image, and by hearing Mads express and describe even hints of the possibilities. There's a heavy, hushed intensity to the moment that almost makes him forget he hasn't given an answer. The humor has drained away from the conversation, and the wise part of Hugh tells him that he has to go now, before he makes himself any more transparent.

"It's late," he says, sounding stilted and awkward to his own ears.

"Yes."

"I should leave," he gets to his feet, finishing his beer with a quick swig. "Thanks for keeping me company tonight."

"Always a pleasure," Mads offers a small smile, standing with him. 

Hugh walks ahead and goes to open the door, but as he finds himself pausing as he reaches for the handle. He turns around to face Mads. "Well, I’ll see you," he says feebly.

"You never answered the question, Hugh."

"About what?"

"Will and Hannibal. Is it really that far from where they are now to a kiss?"

"...I suppose not."

Hugh’s mouth is dry and his pulse hammers in his throat. Mads places a palm on his chest and gives him a light but firm push so that his back hits the door. They’re eye to eye, a mere few inches of space between them, and Hugh swallows hard. It’s taking every last drop of his self-restraint not to close the remaining distance. For the first time, he fully considers that Mads might have pictured the same things he has, and responded to those things in the same way – that he might _want_ something to happen between the two of them.

"It would be as easy as this," Mads trails a finger along the sharp line of Hugh's jaw, and Hugh's eyelids flutter closed reflexively as heat pools in his stomach.

"What do you think Hannibal wants?" he finds himself asking, as though they're still merely debating hypotheticals. He opens his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

"I think he wants to see you tremble, watch you fall apart under his hands…" Mads says, unconsciously swiping his tongue over the crease between his lips, seemingly unaware of the fact he's dropped Hugh’s character’s name from the equation. "I think he wants you to lose yourself to how he could make you feel."

Hugh considers this through a haze of rising lust, a shiver raising the hairs on the nape of his neck as he feels the fingers that touched his face now slowly sliding down over his shoulder. "And who has the power at that point?" he asks Mads softly.

"Perhaps neither, perhaps both..." comes a low, breathy response that tickles Hugh's cheek. His skin heats up automatically, and he aches. He hesitantly leans forward a fraction to barely brush their noses together, and that's the breaking point. Mads surges forward and kisses him fiercely, cupping his face. Hugh hears a soft, eager noise catch in his own throat, unprepared for the deep relief he feels at just _giving in_. After the initial harsh clash of lips, Mads explores his mouth with a blend of hunger and sensuality, slowly and deeply. Hugh parts his lips and feels their tongues meet, fervent and demanding. He's been half hard since Mads pushed him back against the door, cock straining at the front of his jeans now.

"Tell... tell me more about what he would do. To me," Hugh murmurs against his lips, letting the easy conflation between Will and himself slip out and hang in the air. Their bodies are pressed together now, and Hugh wraps his arms around Mads, needing to be closer still. Mads's insistent erection presses hot and thick against Hugh's thigh and he reflexively rubs against that hardness. He feels a muscular thigh work between his own legs in response and pushes back into the delicious friction, breathing harshly.

Mads pulls away from their kiss, eyes bright and glossy. "I imagine he would worship you for hours," he says with a sensual roll of his hips that has Hugh reeling with the implied possibilities. "Lick your sweat and work you open until you were desperate."

The words go straight to Hugh's cock and he finds he's almost dizzy with lust. "And what would he let _me_ do?" Hugh asks, shedding inhibitions by the second. He's euphorically turned on, and he's beginning to understand that Mads truly _wants_ him. It's a heady, potent feeling. When there's no reply, he slides his right hand up into silky, greying hair at the back of Mads's head and presses his mouth to the shell of his ear.

"I don’t think he'd say no if Will just wanted to push him down and fuck him," Hugh whispers with a light tug to the strands threaded through his fingers.

Mads curses through his teeth, and there's a blur of barely coordinated hands as belts are undone and flies are unfastened, clothing urgently and inelegantly shoved down just far enough and eyes greedily raking over exposed skin.

"I want to touch you," Mads says, raw honesty in his voice, and it's the first time he's addressed the situation directly, confronted what they're doing without the barrier of character exposition. No sooner has he said this than his hand is being grabbed and placed directly on Hugh’s crotch. He traces the outline of Hugh's erection through the thin fabric of his underwear, and Hugh presses his hips into the caress with a harsh inhale. He wonders if he could come from this – from these agonizingly light touches and the sound of Mads's voice alone.

As the material is pushed aside, Hugh lets his head lean against the door and groans appreciatively as Mads's fingers curl around his cock, sliding his foreskin back in the first exquisite stroke of flesh on flesh. " _God_ that feels good," he sighs, eyes shutting, and lips parting.

Mads reaches up and grazes Hugh's bottom lip with his left index finger, and Hugh touches the surface with his tongue, tasting salt and smelling a hint of nicotine. As he reaches down between their bodies, he suddenly wonders what it would be like to sink to the floor and take Mads's cock between his lips. Mads is so hard it must surely be painful, the rigid outline of him standing out through the fabric, but he grabs Hugh by the wrist before contact is made.

"Let me do this for you," he leans in so their foreheads are touching, voice shaking slightly as he glides his thumb over the head of Hugh's cock. "Do you want it?"

"I want it," Hugh sighs, hips bucking up into Mads's hand as it resumes its steady, skillful strokes. "Keep talking to me."

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me... _ah_ ," Hugh temporarily loses the ability to speak, letting Mads work him ever closer to orgasm, "Tell me if you really... how you've pictured it. I know you have."

"With you writhing, begging, unrestrained," Mads says, glancing down with heavy-lidded eyes as he touches Hugh. "Leaking like you are now. How could anyone ever get enough of you?"

Hugh can't process this information, can't answer, and can barely even breathe with Mads stroking his shaft with one hand while the other gently massages his perineum.

"And he’d want to bite Will, of course..." Mads twists his wrist expertly and nuzzles at Hugh’s neck with an open mouth, dragging his lips across the skin.

"Do it," Hugh pleads irrationally as he grabs a fistful of Mads’s shirt, vaguely remembering that they can’t really leave marks and yet aching for the scrape and the burn of sharp teeth. 

"I can't," Mads purrs tantalizingly. "But maybe he couldn’t either. Maybe he couldn’t trust himself."

The pang of arousal Hugh feels at that idea takes him by surprise. "Look at me," his voices trembles as he fucks up into the tight grip of Mads’s fist and listens to the obscene, slick sound of it. The intimacy of the eye contact is both terrifying and electric.

"Faster," Hugh gasps, cheeks flushed and hips twitching involuntarily. "I'm so close. _Fuck_ , don't stop."

"Please," he breathes against Mads's mouth, no longer even sure what he's asking for, and then he feels teeth sink into his lower lip, a perfect painful counterpoint to the blissful pleasure of the hand working his cock. He comes with a strangled cry, shooting over Mads's fingers and onto his shirt, head falling forward as he buries his face in Mads's shoulder with a muffled moan.

He is light-headed and weak-limbed as his cognitive faculties slowly start to return, arms quivering slightly. With one splayed palm braced on the wall behind Hugh’s head, Mads brings the other hand to his lips and licks his own fingers, eyes dark with want.

"Do I taste good?" Hugh whispers, getting his breath back and reaching down to finally free Mads from his underwear. He has waited long enough. Mads is thick and solid in his palm, velvety hot and wet at the tip. Hugh kisses him again, open-mouthed and filthy, jerking him off with purpose.

" _Yes_ ," Mads groans low in his throat, tipping his neck back and arching up into Hugh's fist. The power is heady, and Hugh feels utterly desired.

"You’re so hard for me," he says softly, and there's no Will and Hannibal now – no pretense that this is about anything other than the two of them. "I never... I didn't know you wanted this. I felt guilty knowing I'd gotten off to the idea of asking you to suck me off."

"You wouldn't have to ask," Mads gasps out with effort, making a sound of deep satisfaction as Hugh palms his balls and rolls them in his hand.

"No? I could just push you to your knees and feed you my cock?"

Mads can only moan, nodding, eyes tight shut and mouth hanging open. Hugh's lips graze his ear and he shivers.

"That's it," Hugh coaxes. Remembering the previous reaction, he slides his left hand up into his Mads's hair and tightens the grip, pulling his head back a fraction. Mads chokes out his name, panting raggedly through his orgasm as his muscles tense and the slick flood of his releases drips through Hugh's fingers.

As Mads tries to catch his breath, he reaches out to embrace Hugh and rest his forehead on his shoulder, all the bravado of dirty talk and desperation draining away. Hugh strokes his neck, overwhelmed by affection, elated and yet utterly shaken by the release of pent-up tension. He knows he'll have to think about this – to work through what it means for their future, and try to understand how it reframes their past. For now, however, they stand wrapped in each other's arms by the door, sticky and messy, validated and vibrantly alive.


End file.
